


look from the corner of your eye

by sp8ce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot, Season/Series 15, pre covid finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp8ce/pseuds/sp8ce
Summary: "There’s a similar familiarity to the light, and for a second all the pain goes away. You’re pretty sure the light is love. Everything stops, and you’re overcome with a peace you think you’ve only ever felt once before. But you can’t remember when."A story based on Dean's "Heaven" in the pre-covid finale. "Fix-it".
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. like lightning in a cave

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains references to suicide, some torture, and also nonconsensual touching in the first chapter. read with caution.

Everything is rottingly empty, and you half wonder _Oh, since Cas is there, in the Empty, am I somehow too? Did he drag me with him_? You don’t know what to make of it, of anything. You can’t process what happened because you’re so angry at him you think you’ll break your fists hitting your bedroom wall if you let yourself. Everything is empty. And you try to make sense of it -- you were just as alone after your dad died, and he also went to hell for you. But the pervasive pain that you could lock up after that isn’t what follows you now. This is just so empty.

And you hate Cas. You hate him so much. That is the only thought that keeps you going because you have to counter it with so much fake positivity to keep it from ruining yourself or accidentally punching Sam right in the face. How dare he die for you? How dare he love you? How dare he love you if it were just going to ruin him?

Sam doesn’t see your anger the way he normally does. He barely goads you. Mentions his own grief, keeps it simple. Doesn’t push you into telling him all the rotten pith of it. And you can’t understand why. Is it because the emptiness is what sings out instead of the writhing agony you’re so accustomed to? You’re like a cloud, and Sam can’t read the barometer to see the storm.

It’s funny, how much worse you’ve been. How much more of a wreck. You’ve lost Cas before. Maybe that’s why. Maybe your whole being is just on pause for him. Waiting. Shouldn’t he show up any minute? And why isn’t Jack saying “hello”? Did you really fuck everything up that much?

You’re not in the negatives. You’re not in the positives. You’re just not a numeral. You’re empty. Didn’t Cas know if he left you like this, you’d be dragged there with him, human soul centred in your being, screaming, regardless?

So you live like you do, you find a case, and pray it will be bloody. Lose yourself, hope, actually let yourself _hope_ you can torture something for someone, just so you can feel _anything_ . Let the world know that no, you’re not saved. How can you be saved if he’s gone? _He’s gone_.

The sharp pain in your back still hurts. You’re not sure why, after all these decades, physical pain hurts so much. Why does it always hurt to die? You know this is how you are going to end. That’s what you want. You just needed Sam to see he’d be okay. You just needed to leave the world knowing you’d saved a few more people. And when you get to Heaven, it’s honestly a shock.

But you’re so thankful. Because maybe you can lose yourself in it. Because aren’t you supposed to see Cas again, even if it’s just in your best memories?

Except Jack has changed Heaven. You’re proud of the kid, but the way he’s changed it is a little bizarre. You think you might have not been as clear to him what your dad had been like, wishing to romanticise fishing and memories stolen to bond with him. But it sends fear through your body (is this a body, are you corporeal?) to know he’s so close. 

But it doesn’t matter. Things seem off, but you’re in a new dimension, so wouldn’t they be? You’re at the roadhouse, and god you forgot how much you missed it, but you can’t find Ellen or Jo, and what’s the point in missing the place if they’re not there? The band Kansas is playing, and you love the song, but why are they here? Bobby says it’s really them, but aren’t they alive? And why would their Heaven be yours, even if the barriers are blocked down?

It all seems very fishy, and your life is being capable of telling when something is up. But then you see him, and you know right then, yeah, _this is Heaven_.

The last words he said to you are still in your head, and you’re angry, you’re so fucking angry, but you have no right to be, but then again, don’t you, if he left you, like that? If he died to save your life? You wonder if you made him human enough to die and come here instead. The idea is actually a comfort. You run to him immediately, wrapping your arms around him before even thinking he might not want it because you know he doesn’t want you the way you want him. But he’s hugged you of his volition before, and fuck, you thought you’d never see him again. So what the hell?

“I’m so sorry, I’m, you, too, the nice things and--” you’re muttering a bit incoherently. You realise you’ve never actually told you loved him with words. You’re bad with words. Especially when _love_ is something you feel for him in a way that doesn’t translate right. You don’t want to tell him you love him because what you want to tell him is you’re in love with him.

But he shoves you off him, and that’s confusing. He hasn’t done that before.

“Sorry, that was rough, but personal space, and, well, I don’t really like you,” Cas says. You stand a few feet back, gutted, for a minute. Things seem somewhat nightmarish. Cas hasn’t ever said something like that before. He’s never. Not like that. You’re frozen, too hurt to rejoice that he’s here. Too confused to say anything at all until it turns to anger.

“Well fuck you for saying that shit to me then,” you say. Cas narrows his eyes. It’s all so wrong. Even the way he’s holding his body is wrong. His voice is too high, when he speaks again. You never thought you’d miss a way someone could look confused.

“Oh, you think I’m the angel,” he says. “I’m not Castiel.”

“ _Jimmy_?” you say, and suddenly it slots into place, why Cas seems so weird, so dismissive. Jimmy shrugs, then walks away, not saying anything else, leaving you in a crowd full of people, most of which you don’t know, while a guitar solo goes on.

Why would Jimmy be in your Heaven? Why would your dad? What is even going on?

And that’s when it hits you. It’s all very simple, actually. But you have to give them credit. They never did this to you before.

You’re in _hell_

The world morphs, suddenly, ghastly greens and dark colours, and you hear screaming and screaming, but the most notable sensation is the sudden stabbing sensation through your arms and your feet. It’s terrifying; you forgot, you forgot how bad it is. You’re so stupid. You shouldn’t have been so reckless with your life. You shouldn’t have knowingly let yourself die just because you couldn’t stand it anymore.

There’s no escape here. And everything that hurt you on Earth, well that will just be used against you.

But also, there is a small curling thought you know is true in the end. _You deserve this_. You couldn’t save him. And now, he can’t save you again.

You thought you were alone, but a figure you earlier couldn’t distinguish morphs. 

“How could you not save me? After everything I did for you?” the demon in the shape of Castiel says. You know it’s not him though. Besides the fact you actually are certain he’d never knowingly hurt you, they used to do this with Sam a lot, when you were in Hell before. “Aren’t you so smart, Dean. I’ve been waiting for you. I couldn’t believe it when they said you’d somehow escaped.”

The demon Cas slices down your abdomen, and you can’t help but cry out in pain. There is a sick part of you that is grateful, even if this is torture, that you at least get to see Cas’s face again.

Of course thoughts, they aren’t private in Hell, and the demon laughs in a way Cas never has.

“Of course you’re so greedy for him, aren’t you?” he says. “‘One thing he can’t have....’ pity he died before you could have revealed how much those words hurt you. Because you’re the one who can’t have what you want. Perverted human thoughts. What could he possibly mean when you’d give him _anything_?” the demon says. You try not to let that get to you, even coming from Cas’s mouth. It might not be something you ever let yourself think of or deny, but it’s also been there for years. It’s not like it hasn’t been used against you countless times.

But then the demon’s expression changes; the mocking mirth slips into a more stoic look of happiness or affection or some other fucked up emotion you dare not speak. It makes your heart _ache_. You briefly wonder if they’re going to make Cas literally cut out your heart.

“Dean, is this what you desire?” the demon Cas asks, before running his hands from your shoulders past your chest down to your hips. “Is this why you came to hell? To finally feel me touch you?”

“You know it’s rude to steal someone’s face,” you spit out. “Like, full on impolite. Don’t they teach you manners at demon school?” Cas’s hands still move, up and down, the further, and the anticipation actually does something to your modified, fake, replicated nervous system. And then he just stops.

“Well, the real Cas could never want you,” the demon says. If you wanted pitiful torture like this, you’d just listen to your internal monologue on earth. 

“But he loves me,” you say. And somehow the thought eases the agony in your extremities and makes the fear from the screaming and the eternity of torture in your future recede, just a little. _He loves me_.

“ _And look where that got him_ ,” the demon Cas says, black coming from nowhere, and no, you don’t want to relieve this. Every nightmare, every time you close your eyes. You know, what else do you expect from Hell? It’s effective. He eventually stops, then stabs you in the heart, and you’re screaming, and you can’t help it, and it’s horrific, because the only way you could ever be saved you destroyed too. Why couldn’t he have no faith in you?

Out of nowhere, there’s blinding light, and the demon drops its Castiel exterior, turns into shifting black smoke, but for some reason you still recognise them, somehow. You’re not sure how. There’s just familiarity.

There’s a similar familiarity to the light, and for a second all the pain goes away. You’re pretty sure the light is love. Everything stops, and you’re overcome with a peace you think you’ve only ever felt once before. But you can’t remember when. You sense fear from the demon beside you, but you can tell they’re a victim too. You’re not sure how. The moment stops, and everything goes blank.


	2. how cells react to hellfire

You wake up freezing. 

Is this another rendition of Hell?

You’re tied up, ropes around you, fully clothed and sore. Your hands are tied alongside your body, but your reach for your pocket, and there’s a knife, and when you feel for it, you realise it’s your favourite knife, the one you always like to have in your jacket. You easily cut the ropes off and realise you’re above a bunch of ash, and oh, shit, someone, _someone burnt your corpse._ You know you’ve done so many hunter’s funerals, but somehow the thought still sickens you a bit.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god,_ ” you hear from beside you, and you glance over, instantly on alert, now that you’re not alone.

It is not exactly the last person you’d expect to see, either.

“Bela? _Bela Talbot_?” you say. 

“I’m.... this hasn’t happened before,” she says. She’s laying on a patch of grass not too far from you, wearing what appears to be a pair of fluffy pajamas with bunnies on them. She also looks like she did when you lost saw her, over a decade ago, young, and rather stunning. If you don’t count the scowl on her face.

“So you’re in Hell, and I’m in Hell, how it was meant to be, huh,” you say. You’re not sure how to make small talk now.

“I was torturing you,” she says.

“Oh. Okay then,” you say. She looks stunned, touching her body, her clothes, her hair. “Well, are you going to now? Am I supposed to fight you? Or are you going to grope me again, ‘cause honestly, not in the mood.”

The words stun her, and she looks at you with unadulterated horror.

“No,” she says.

“Okay.” You’re not entirely sure what to make of the situation, but it really does feel like Earth again, and the sensation of coming back to it, with its air and it’s trees, the petrichor and the daylight through the clouds. It was very similar. You have no idea why you’re here now, or if you’re truly out of hell. But you’re just going to go on the assumption you are. Maybe Jack isn’t going to be completely hands-off after all. At least this time, if God commanded you to be saved, you know why. Naive family loyalty.

“I think I’m human,” Bela says. “Is guilt a torture you’ve seen used in hell?” she asks, and there’s something earnest about it, about the way she’s looking at you almost apologetically, that knocks you a bit off guard. It’s been many years since you’ve seen her, but all your memories of her before she was a torturer in hell were not of someone very capable of feeling much guilt.

“I’m assuming this is different. I think my brother burned my corpse here, we could try to find him. I was not in Hell very long, so I doubt much time has passed for me.”

“I was always under the assumption we went to hell around the same time,” Bela says. She’s a little disoriented, you can tell. But you guess you are too, and you’ve been through this before.

“I was, got yanked out, then somehow got myself an express ticket back down under. This time, no deal. Just being a shitty person, I guess,” you say.

“Probably didn’t help that you committed suicide,” she says. That knocks you off guard.

“Excuse me?” 

“I was torturing you, when you torture someone you download--”

“Yeah, I’ve been through that before. But I died being impaled from behind,” you say. Bela rolls her eyes. She doesn’t respond to that, then after a second, a facade of hers slips.

“What year did you die, then?” she asks. “How are you even still alive? I’ve been there for....” there’s a faraway look in her eyes. “I’m a demon,” she says, like she’s just realising. You’re not very convinced of that, considering the fact she’s in her body and not possessing anyone, but you guess you can test with holy water. You check your jacket, but it seems that it was all evaporating in the fire.

“I died in 2020,” you say. “Time passes differently in hell. Each month is like a decade. Since I was only there, what? Less than a day? I’m guessing it’s mid-November, and Sammy’s going to be pretty shocked to see me again so soon. You want to come? You can crash with us for a while as long as you don’t try to stab me in the heart or anything,” you offer. You think about the bunker, though, and all the things Bela could steal. You guess that’s the least of your concerns given the comparison to the amount of time she’s been damned.

“I think I should, probably, Dean, I’ve done... I’ve done horrible things...” she trails off, still disoriented. You recognise that, even if for you it was a decade compared to the amount of time she’s been there you can’t even begin to fathom. 

“Yeah, yeah, well don’t do horrible things now, ‘kay?” you say. “Nice threads, by the way.” She frowns at you. At least she seems to be wearing durable boots.

You are right. You’re very close to the bunker, and it doesn’t take much time at all for you to get to the door and knock on it. You think it’s perhaps better for Sam to let you in than for you to just enter unannounced. Bela stands beside you, obviously nervous.

“Just chill, alright. I know this is a lot, but it’s a good thing,” you try to comfort her. She doesn’t seem pleased at it. 

You knock extra loud on the door, about to just say screw it and go in anyways, and then Sam opens up, and his eyes go wide, and hell, if you haven’t missed that. You immediately go to hug him. He feels real, and honestly this whole thing does. You’re pretty sure Jack must have resurrected you. At least, you hope it’s Jack. 

“Dean... I just, I just burnt... Bela?” Sam says, pulling away. Bela’s just sort of standing there; she shrugs in her bunny pajamas.

“You didn’t make a deal right, please, tell me you--”

“No, no deal, Dean.” Disaster one avoided. 

“Guess I’m alive again,” you say. Great. Better than being tortured you guess? And you do feel weirdly less empty. 

“That is.... Somehow weirdly not surprising,” Sam says, but you see the relief on his face. You feel guilt gnawing something awful in your stomach. “You know I got to test you right.” 

“Come at me,” you say. He pulls some holy water from his jacket, and you hold out your hand. It doesn’t burn, which you suppose is a good sign. 

“Test me,” Bela says. Sam kind of smiles, still perplexed, but pours some holy water on her hand too. No reaction. 

“The wards should really test you anyways,” Sam says. “But I’ll grab some silver anyways.” You both follow him in. 

“What is this place?” Bela asks. You’re already sure she’s planning to steal from you, but for some reason you don’t care that much. You don’t really care about anything. Until Miracle runs up to you excitedly, and yeah that’s something that makes life spark meaning for a second. 

“It’s our home, now I see you casing it, but come on, is that really what you want to do when you’re rescued from hell? Make sure you go back?”

“You’re fooling yourself if you ever think after what I did down there I could go to Heaven,” Bela says. It sends a chill down your spine. So maybe that’s why you’ll never escape your fate.

“That’s not true, Bela,” Sam says. “You can actually live your life now, I assume.”

“You sure got old,” she replies. Sam looks at her perplexed. 

“That’s, that’s what happens when you’re alive,” Sam says. 

You get sorted in, and Sam brings Bela to one of your spare rooms and gets her situated with some clothing. It makes you uneasy, having her there, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the fact she’s a thief who was actively your enemy over a decade ago, or if your instincts are just off because she stabbed you in the heart while stealing Cas’s face. 

Sam comes into your room after a few minutes.

“So, are we thinking Jack?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I mean, it makes sense?”

“You died yesterday,” Sam says, and you hear the sorrow undertones. 

“Oops,” you say. Unsure of how to alleviate the tension. “Perhaps good that’s not my final death... I mean vampire mimes?”

“Dean, that’s not funny,” Sam says. He goes to hug you again, but this time his arm wraps against your shoulder, and it hurts. He pulls away as you flinch. You immediately take your jacket off, and there it is: same place as it was before. Burnt scar tissue in the form of a handprint. 

It feels too intimate for your brother to see, for some reason, and you immediately let your t-shirt sleeve down, even though he’s seen the exact same replica many times before. But there’s a sudden edge of hope that makes you feel like you’re going to fucking choke.

“That looks like...”

“Exactly the same, yeah,” you say. Your heart rate has jumped through the ceiling to taste the daylight, and you feel so overwhelmed it feels like your vision is flickering. You’re not able to stay empty forever, you realise. It’s going to hit you that he’s gone. Is he gone? It’s going to hit you that he’s gone.

“So we’re thinking Cas saved you then?” Sam says. You want to punch him for saying that. For making the hope threaten to bloom in your chest and take out all signs of light with its thick canopy. 

“He’s dead,” you say. 

“You’re dead,” Sam says. Fair point. You cannot examine this too carefully. But Sam turns into a big grin. “But why wouldn’t he tell us? It’s the same shoulder right, like I’m remembering right?”

“It’s the same,” Dean says. “Hey, can you give me a minute. My clothes kind of stink of ash,” you say. It’s not entirely true. “And you know Bela’s stealing our silverware.”

“I’m more worried about the priceless antiques that could save lives, but sure, yeah I’ll check on her,” Sam says. Bless him for that. The second your bedroom door, you fall to your knees, but before you can say anything, someone walks into the room.

But it’s just Bela again. Sam did a really good job of checking on her, you think sarcastically. She is wearing some plaid and jeans instead of the ridiculous pajamas. It’s a bit embarrassing, that she sees you now on your knees, and you hastily stand up, which is somehow a bit more humiliating.

“You’re trying to talk to that angel you’re in love with?” she asks.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you respond through gritted teeth. She rolls her eyes. “Anyways, I’m into women,” you say, as if the words don’t taste stale. Back in the day, you’d have more energy for this bullshit, but right now it feels rehearsed.

“So am I, doesn’t mean I don’t swing both ways. Dean, I’m not here to mock you,” she says. 

“Really? ‘Cause you did a lot of that not too long ago,” you say. She actually flinches at that.

“You try being in hell as long as I was. Your secret’s safe with me.” She pauses. “I thought he was dead though? Is he what saved us?”

“That, I’m trying to find out. Now can you leave me alone for a minute?”

“Fine, I just have to say something though,” she says. 

“What? Spit it out?”

“Sorry.” The words come through gritted teeth. She looks wary. 

“You barely tortured me for five minutes, I’ve had worse, Bela, it’s okay,” you say, taking pity on her. 

“Well, I’d stab you again in a minute, but I’d never...” she trails off, after starting rather brightly. “Anyways, I’ll leave you to contact your... friend or whatever. I’d like to meet him, if he’s willing.”

“Alright,” you say. She leaves, and you’re finally able to break down. You're finally able to reach out to the burning, tingling sensation on your arm. The emptiness that has turned to fear so thick it's like a hook in your chest.

“Cas? Is this you? Even if you’re angry at me, or upset I couldn’t save you... if you’re alright please....” you know you’re pleading and it’s pathetic, but you can’t, you just can’t. If it makes the message louder than so be it.

You hear him land.

“Hello Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps this fic is a good example of why someone shouldn't write 6.6k words in one sitting then post it unbetaed but oh well. we live how we live.


	3. Daylight

The first thing you feel is blinding rage. 

You want to rip him apart, tear him to sheds, punch him straight in the face even if all you’re left with is a broken wrist. He’s obviously got powers again, if he can bring you back to life.

How could he say those things to you? How could he tell you he loves you then leave? How could he die for you? How could he let you mourn him? What sort of bullshit expression of love is it if he’s willing to put you through that?

“What the  _ fuck _ , Cas?” you express rather empathically, your nails digging into the palms of your hands, fists tight. Cas looks a little confused, a little hurt, and that softens you a bit, but his loss tastes heavy at the back of your throat and you’re scared if you go to hug him he’s going to push you away like Jimmy did. And you don’t think you can take it right now. You just don’t think you can take it.

“I’m sorry, you died. I wasn’t expecting it. I brought you back as soon as I could,” Cas says, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re so upset.

“That’s not what this is about,” you say.

“Oh.” Cas stares at his feet. For some reason he seems weirdly vulnerable. You fight the urge to ask him if something’s wrong. “It’s about what I said,” he says quietly, expectantly. 

“How long?” you ask. His eyes dart back to meet yours.

“Don’t make me say,” he says. He sounds pained, vulnerable. 

“No, you’re going to tell me. When did he bring you back?” you say. Cas’s face relaxes by a margin.

“You mean how long have I been alive again?” he clarifies. You shrug  _ duh _ . “Since Jack became God. It was the first thing he did. We’ve been reworking Heaven since.”

The anger reaches fever pitch and the turmoil of abandonment and self hatred screams so loudly you don’t know what to do with yourself. You feel like maybe it’s possible you’re still in hell. Like the only way they could really break you is by making you know with certainty that Cas would knowingly abandon you again. The world seems so real, but Cas is supposedly dead, and why is Bela Talbot here anyways? Maybe you really are still stuck in hell.

Then again, why would an angel love you when you’re basically damned to become a demon? Every road looks the same. Even when he protects you from hell. You’re always going to end up corrupted beyond recognition in the end. He deserves to love someone better.

But you’re also livid he would leave you at all. Your worth be damned.

“You let me mourn you,” you state. It isn’t a question. 

“You didn’t seem to be in mourning,” Cas says tersely. 

“You don’t get to say that,” you say. He nods briefly.

“You were upset?” he asks, and it’s more open, like he’s shocked, a bit curious, that you’d miss your best friend.

“What the hell do you think?” you say. 

“You didn’t ask about me, what was I supposed to?” Cas returns. You’re not sure how to answer that. What were you supposed to do? Pray to a corpse? Pray to the empty air?

“You  _ left  _ me,” you say. An age old burn. The pith. It bleeds and bleeds.

“I’m right here,” Cas says. It’s gentler, and you cave. The anger melts and the relief pours through your system so fast you feel your eyes sting and dampen. You wrap your arms around him furiously. You think you’re going to break with this. And if this is hell, and the curtains drop now, they’ll have succeeded in destroying you.

But they don’t. And Cas doesn’t pull away or let you go. You know you’re supposed to, and usually even when he comes back you’re able to keep your desperate desire to be in his arms away, but not right now. Maybe it was hell, maybe it was the way he told you how much he loved you, you’re not sure. But you just can’t force yourself to part.

“Dean, it’s alright, I’m okay,” he says. You refuse to sob though. You want to make a joke. The tension is too high now. But you’d also prefer to kiss him.

When the thought enters your brain, you do pull away. Right. Just another of the sick thoughts you have. And he’s all turbo-charged now too. More angelic than ever. The burn on your arm stings.

You sit down on your bed, and gesture for him to as well, far enough for space, and he sits at the end facing you. He seems really uncertain. It’s surprisingly human, the fragility, he seems to have.

“You brought me back from hell again,” you state. Cas nods.

“That is correct,” he says. “Do you want me to heal your arm?”

“No.” The answer surprises him; he’s already leant forward. “How can you see anything good in me when you literally had to drag my ass out of hell for the second time?” Cas tilts his head.

“Judgment is not always very accurate, Dean. Not always fair. Jack’s working on fixing things. But those who make deals like you did do not deserve to be in hell. Neither do those who commit suicide.” You flinch back, shocked. 

“I did not--” you stumble. “I died saving people’s lives. What the fuck are you on about. How is that not honourable? You think I would kill myself after you died to save me?” Cas frowns.

“You belong in Heaven when you die Dean. I’m sure Anubis would agree. Not to mention, Jack would.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing very well,” Cas said. There’s even a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, knew the kid’d do good,” you say. Cas squints as if it’s a little shocking to hear. 

“So you wanted to know I’m alive, I’m alive. If you want me to heal you in the future, I’ll be here,” Cas says. He still looks so wary and uncomfortable. “Can that be the end of this conversation? You really don’t need to say anything else.”

“You think you’re going to get out of me reacting to you making that fucking deal?” Dean says. Cas shrinks a bit, almost imperceptibly.

“I don’t regret it, even if I didn’t come back.”

“True happiness. Your true happiness is being around me? Being open with me? Why the hell did you stay away then afterwards if you actually liked. Oh whatever,” you say. You’re not sure where you want to go with this. But you don’t want this conversation to end. You don’t want him to disappear again. It always feels like he’s never going to come back. But you’d never stop waiting, you think. How could you ever stop waiting? 

“I didn’t expect to see you again after I told you,” Cas admits. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

“What?” 

“After I confessed how I felt,” Cas says. He’s uncomfortable again, and you’re afraid he’s going to disappear right in front of you. It’s an uneasy feeling.

His words remind you of unspoken secrets under your tongue.

“Why would I not want to see you?” Cas’s breath falters. It’s weird to see when he’s charged the way he is, that he’s so emotional. Or maybe the years have made you better at reading him.

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” he admits. You fumble.

“That I don’t feel the same way?” you desperately think back to everything he said to you, unable to see how you obviously don’t return what he was on about. “I don’t understand.” Cas looks perplexed. “Cas what did you want that you can’t have?”

“You.”

“Who ever said you don’t have me?” you say. Cas looks even more confused. 

“You’re going to make me say it again,” he says, and not without pain. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?”

“I love you, Dean,” he says. 

“Yeah and I-- me too,” you respond. Cas smiles, but it still looks sad.

“I’m in love with you,” he says. Everything freezes. You still. Cas looks like he’s expecting to be taken by some cosmic entity for daring to speak the words, forced out of him by your complete stupidity. The anger disappears. You think you knew somewhere. But you couldn’t dare to hope.

But now you’re seized by it.

“I... I--” You don’t know how to return such simple words. They are stuck in your throat. But Cas looks dejected, downright heartbroken.

“It’s alright, I know that you don’t--”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” you settle on, and Cas looks momentarily hurt, but then just confused. You decide you can just cross the distance you’ve spent what feels like eternity daring at the edge of, and move to pull him close, settling to kiss him, soft, on the lips. He doesn’t move to kiss you back so you pull away immediately, terrified, you’ve misunderstood. Maybe this whole thing is projection. Maybe Enochian to English doesn’t translate the same. How could ever--

“You don’t need to do that,” Cas says, cutting off your monologue, but he’s got a sly grin that makes you burst into a full smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years,” you admit, and you finally get it, what Cas’s true moment of happiness is, though you don’t think you could ever do what he did and admit it thinking it was unreciprocated. But you can now, to watch his eyes light up, to see him smile like you’ve made his whole world with your ridiculous, stupid feelings. And the weight, of him seeing you, of him knowing about this depth that’s been hidden inside for so long. You feel so light you could fly away. 

Cas leans in this time, to kiss you, and you forget everything. All you want in that moment is to show him all the words you couldn’t say. You stay like that for several minutes until you hear a knock on the door, and pull away abruptly. Cas looks flustered, which is so hot you can’t even begin to comprehend, and you’re on a high you’ve never been before in your life. You hope your kissing is okay, and it’s a weird insecurity given you’re sure you have more experience than him. But you haven’t actually done that much kissing in the last few years.

“Yeah, come in,” you say. And Sam walks in. His eyes go wide.

“Oh my god, Cas,” he says. It makes you feel a bit guilty, the way he just lights up. “Come here.” And Cas stands up, and Sam hugs him. You don’t know why you feel a twinge of jealousy. What if this doesn’t mean the same thing to Cas as you? But him and Cas hug for a couple seconds, pull away. “I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s been hard without you.”

“Oh,” Cas says. “Yes, I am alive. Sorry about the delay on the update,” he says, glancing at you. 

“Well you saved Dean again, huh?” Sam says, and there’s something bright in his eyes, like he honestly expected that the two of you were going to be gone for the rest of his life, and he can’t believe you’re back. 

“Yes, that is true.”

“And me, apparently,” Bela says, walking into your room. There’s all too many people in here now. All you really want to do is makeout with Cas for next like, eternity. 

“Yes, well, Dean seems very attached,” Cas says, and there’s something sad in his tone. “I thought you were torturing him, but he seemed to want to bring you with him. You weren’t fully a demon, so I was able to resurrect you too.”

“So you’re Castiel,” Bela says, stating the obvious. She looks to you. “I didn’t ask to be saved. I don’t owe you anything,” she says. 

“Okay,” Cas replies. 

“Uh? Really Bela?” you say. She looks really uncomfortable. 

“No, it’s okay, Dean. I was correcting a wrong. Demons should not prey upon vulnerable children.” Bela looks stricken.

“What the hell do you know about me,” she asks. Cas looks rather uncomfortable. 

“I won’t say anything more. But you are reset now, especially with Lilith long dead. You should have a chance at a life and then a chance at Heaven.” Bela doesn’t say anything, but storms away shortly after that. 

“Anyways,” Sam says. “I’m so glad that you’re back Cas! Are you staying at the bunker or...”

“I can go to Heaven. I am a Seraph again, so anywhere is in my purview.”

“Okay...” Sam says. “I’m just relieved you’re alive.” Cas dares a glance at you.

“I actually think I am too.” Sam looks between the two of you.

“Okay, well talk later then?” he asks. You nod. He finally clears out.

“I thought he’d never leave--”

“Do you have feelings for Bela?” Cas asks. You’re thrown off guard. You just wanted to kiss him more. Where does he get off asking questions like that when you’ve finally opened up to how you feel about him?

“No?” you say. “Look, I don’t know what I did in Hell,” you say. You don’t include the part where she had been disguising herself as him. “But if I recognised Bela, it’s probably ‘cause I knew her a long time back. But we were barely friends, if that.”

“Oh,” Cas says, and he smiles.

“I know I’m not good with words, but if you, if you wanted I kinda figured--” What? Are you going to ask him to go steady with you? But you’re a little lost because you haven’t been in a relationship in years because you’ve been so in love with him, and honestly, even before that, you didn’t really have many serious ones, and they usually started out with sex. You’re not even really sure what he wants of you.

“What?” he asks.

“What are you looking for, from me,” you ask. The question leaves you vulnerable. But so did kissing him. Like your chest had been stripped bare. Cas looks a little confused. 

“Whatever you’re willing to give,” he says, and wow, that, that’s a lot. You don’t think you’re ready to handle this. It’s so much. You never thought he could return these feelings and now he. 

“Been years,” you say. You don’t elaborate, and instead go to kiss him again, try to kiss him with everything you can, and he’s kissing you back almost possessively.

You kind of hope he’s serious about what he said.

Because you kind of want to give him the rest of your life.

And eternity, too. If you ever actually make it up to Heaven.

It filters through your mind now, and it’s almost silly, the dreams that were buried under the surface. And they’re even more ridiculous because he’s an angel, and he probably doesn’t want to fit into most of them. Like working some job, maybe a mechanic, oh who knows, but an actual job, maybe something you can be good at and help others while still being safe. You want to grow old with him. You want him to always be there every night, and never leave, and this, it’s all terrifying, because won’t he leave? Why on earth wouldn’t he leave?

You dream of sharing a home and helping him on his missions perhaps, but still making other friends, of introducing you boyfriend (wow boyfriend, or,) to them and, wow maybe you’re getting carried away. You’re almost petrified to even tell Sammy.

But you want it all, you want everything with him. You always have. It’s always been here, so real and scary. You’ve always been willing to do anything, search anywhere, for him. But you never thought you’d actually get to touch him like this.

For the first time in your life, there’s a hope for your future that’s almost dangerously bright. It reminds you of that flash of him in your memories, like something that could save you. You think he’s remade you full of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Actually have this finished, but it's been eight years since I wrote this much in one day, so I split it into three chapters. Still definitely a one-shot.


End file.
